Magic Dance In Middle Earth
by The Jedi Wizard Hobbit
Summary: X-over. When Thranduil has to put his five year old son, Legolas, to bed, he tells the elf that goblins will take him away if he does not behave. When the threat proves true a faceoff between the elf lord and everyone's favorite Goblin King is imminent:)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: My roommate is a goblin and stole these characters. JR, PJ, Mr. Henson, if you want them back you're gonna have to come get 'em in the castle at the center of the goblin city. Just kidding of course. All the usual disclaimers apply.

AN: So… one day my roommate and I were watching Labyrinth. Afterwards, my roommate's muse informed her that the goblins in the Labyrinth were much different than those in Middle Earth (duh), and she pondered upon what Thranduil or Legolas would have to say about them. She claims that this comment was quickly followed by a rabid plot bunny in goblin armor shouting "Bite her in the Teriyaki!" which refused to leave her alone. When she informed me of her plight, I suggested several ideas for character interactions, and from this sprang the following story, written in conjunction with my roommate, Ciryatúre Sea Elf.

We had way too much fun writing this. I've seen Labyrinth many times and we've both read Lord of the Rings many times, and Ciryatúre is an elven expert. Consequently, I know Jareth's character well and I apparently do a pretty good impression of him, since every time I would say one of the movie lines, she was on the floor laughing. And she does an excellent impression of Thranduil and little Legolas (it's amazing how well she knows Thranduil character-wise since there is so little written on him). The majority of the dialogue was written by her and me assuming the roles of the characters, she as Thranduil or Legolas and I as Jareth, and talking back and forth. (We did this a lot during dinner… yes, we did frighten many people). As it was originally her story, she wrote most of it, but I have several parts of my own which I will identify as such when they are posted. Ciryatúre also claims that I had a hand in many of the other events as well and most of Jareth's good lines. Credit for the title also goes to me (hehe, couldn't resist).

I am posting it here because she posted it under the Lord of the Rings fandom and didn't want to post it twice, out of fear that she would get lynched. We didn't use the crossover section because one of these was and book first and the other a movie first, so that didn't work. Also, we posted it under it's separate fandoms because we wanted to make sure that this story would get to the fans that it was intended for. Hope you enjoy! And if you really like, review, because we'd love to here what you have to say!

K, take and deep breath and dive in!

* * *

Magic Dance in Middle Earth

Chapter 1

Thranduil had a headache. It was one of those stress headaches that he had felt niggling around the bridge of his nose long before it had spread above his eyebrows and up into the center of his head in a piercing, throbbing pain like a dwarf trying to hack through his skull with a pickaxe. After a long day of dealing with matters of state and worrying over the growing threat of spiders in Mirkwood the last thing he wanted to do was put Legolas, his hyperactive youngest son, to bed.

Unfortunately for the woodland King, his wife and daughter had gone visiting his wife's mother on the outskirts of the elven city, and would not return for a few days yet, while his older son had been sent as an embassy to Imladris. The king could have asked Legolas's nurse to put him to bed, but the maid had been looking after the little prince all day and Thranduil felt a bit guilty, having spent little time with his son in the past few days.

But before he could give Legolas his bath and put him to bed, Thranduil had to find his son. This proved a difficult task; Legolas was not in his room, nor was he in the throne room or the kitchens, the elfling's favorite places. Frustrated, Thranduil tried his own room, and found Legolas perched on the top of his canopy bed.

"Father!" the little elf cried. "Look how high I am!"

Thranduil's eyes widened. "Legolas!" he exclaimed. "Come down from there!"

He had forgotten how literally five year olds often take things, and it was only the speed of elven reflexes that allowed Thranduil to catch his son as the elfling obeyed his father's instructions and leapt from his perch.

"Ai, Legolas!" Thranduil moaned. "One of these days you are going to hurt yourself, my son."

"Won't!" Legolas replied, squirming in his father's arms. "I'm brave and strong, like you!"

Normally Thranduil would have found this statement very endearing, but his recent fright and his piercing headache made him annoyed and cross.

"Not yet, you aren't," he said. "Right now you are a little elfling who is in need of a bath and a good night's sleep."

"I'm not little!" Legolas said petulantly. He hated being told he was young because everyone around him was older than he, and it bothered him. Thranduil knew this, but his headache had driven away some of his usual tact.

"Legolas, I don't have time to argue tonight," he said. "So please just cooperate."

"I'm not little," the elfling said again, crossing his arms and sticking out his lower lip in a pout.

Thranduil sighed and carried his sulking son down the hall to Legolas's own chambers where the servants had left a tub of steaming water for the prince's bath. Thranduil started to undress Legolas, but the little elf pulled away.

"I can do it!" he said excitedly, and set his small hands to work undoing the ties of his tunic. His five year old motor skills proved unequal to the task, however, and Thranduil did not have the patience to wait.

"Legolas," he said, reaching for the ties.

"No Father, I can do it!" the elfling said again, turning away. Thranduil ignored the statement, picking Legolas up and quickly undoing the ties, despite his son's wiggles.

"Father, no!" Legolas was not happy at being picked up and hauled around in what the little prince viewed as a very undignified manner. The fact remained, however, that his father was much bigger and much stronger than he was, and soon he was stripped and sitting in the bath.

So Legolas sulked as his father washed him, but, typically elven, his mood could not stay sour for long. He didn't want to be angry with his father, he wanted to play. When Thranduil turned around to get shampoo Legolas climbed out of the tub and disappeared out the slightly open door.

It took Thranduil only a moment to realize where his son had gone, for the elfling had left a dripping trail of water in his wake.

"Ai, Legolas!" he groaned, rinsing his soapy hands in the water and setting out after him.

Legolas crouched in the shadows, completely uncaring that he was stark naked and dripping wet, and waited for his father to come looking for him. Hide and seek was a game they often played together, and Legolas was getting very good at eluding his father.

The trail of water had lessened, and looking for a few droplets of water on the dark stone floor of the wide hallway was a daunting task, even for an elf, and Thranduil's patience was wearing thin.

"Legolas, if you don't come out right now, the goblins are going to come to get you," he said, something that his father, Oropher, had often told Thranduil when he was child.

Legolas came running out of the shadows and threw himself at his father.

"No they won't, father," he said, clinging to Thranduil's leg and dampening the King's robes. "You'll protect me." He looked up at his father, wide-eyed. "Right?"

Thranduil sighed and picked his son up.

"Yes, I will protect you," he sighed. "Now will you _please_ come back and take your bath?"

"Uh-huh," Legolas put his arms around Thranduil's neck and pressed his wet head against the older elf's cheek. Cold water dripped down Thranduil's collar as he carried Legolas back to his room.

The water had grown cool during their absence, and Legolas protested vehemently as he was put back into the bath. Thranduil managed to get him clean, but not without getting almost as wet as Legolas. As he dried the little elf off and slipped his wiggling form into a pair of soft green pajamas he turned weary eyes to the heavens.

_Valar, why?_ he asked silently. _His brother and sister were so easy…_

There was a barn owl perched in Legolas's window. The little prince loved animals, and animals loved him, so Thranduil wasn't surprised to see the bird there.

"Oh shoo!" he said crossly. 'Go on, get out of here!"

The owl regarded him silently and didn't move.

"Alright, then stay," Thranduil snapped, resisting the very un-kingly urge to throw something. He set Legolas down on the bed.

"No, father, I don't want to sleep!" Legolas said as Thranduil pulled the covers up over his chest. "Can we play a game?"

Thranduil massaged his forehead, trying to will the headache away.

"Legolas, it's very late, and you need to sleep."

"I'm not tired," Legolas said, bouncing. "I want to play!"

"Legolas, _no_," Thranduil said firmly. "You have to go to sleep now."

"What are you going to do?" Legolas asked, tangling his fingers in Thranduil's hair.

"Legolas, stop that!" Thranduil caught his little son's wrist and liberated his golden tresses. "As soon as you go to bed, I am going to bed as well."

"Can I sleep in your bed with you?" Legolas asked.

As Thranduil's plans actually included a long soak in a hot tub and a generous amount of wine, he shook his head.

"No, little one. You need to go to sleep in your own bed."

Legolas frowned. "You never want to be with me!" he pouted. "You don't love me anymore!" With these words the little elf dropped his face into the pillow and dragged the blanket over his head. Only a little golden hair peaked out.

"Legolas," Thranduil tried to pull the cloth down again, but Legolas held on tightly.

"Go away!" came a muffled voice from under the blanket.

Thranduil sighed. He didn't have the patience to deal with this tonight. Tomorrow he would spend time with Legolas, reassure the little prince that he did love him. But not tonight.

He placed a hand on Legolas shoulder.

"Goodnight, little leaf," he said softly.

Legolas didn't reply, so Thranduil doused the lights and went to the door. He looked back into the darkness of the room, the silhouette of the owl visible against the starlit window. Legolas hadn't moved from under the blankets.

"Oh Legolas," he sighed to himself. "Sometimes I almost wish the goblins would come take you away. At this very moment, for instance."

He shut the door wearily.

Far away, deep under the gray mountains, several pairs of beady eyes opened and looked at each other.

"Did you hear that?" one of them asked in a high, squeaky voice.

"Did he say it?" another inquired.

"Say what?"

"Shhhh!"

"He's supposed to say 'I wish the goblins would come and take you away _right now_."

"That's not what he said."

"He said 'at this very moment.'"

"Well, it means the same thing."

"What do we do?"

"I say go for it."

"Yeah, it's close enough."

No sooner had Thranduil shut the door than he heard a soft scrabbling noise issue from inside the room. He opened it again and looked inside.

"Legolas?" he said softly.

There was no reply. He stood peering into the darkness for a moment when his delicate ears caught the soft scrabbling sounds again, and he caught sight in the corner of his eye of a small shape moving across the floor. His hand reached for the dagger he always carried in the folds of his robe.

Another shaped moved and there was the sound of high pitched laughter. Quick as a striking snake, Thranduil threw the knife, and there was the sound of the blade hitting flesh. The laughter was cut off by a shriek.

"Aaah! I'm hit," a shrill voice squealed. "He got me! Oh, I'm dying, dying! Oh, the pain! I'm dying, oh, oh…"

There was the sound of gagging, and then silence. Thranduil darted to the bed and threw back the covers, and a small, green little face stared up at him. The creature hissed and Thranduil grabbed it by the throat.

"Where is my son?" he hollered.

Before the creature could reply a shadow fell across the bed, and Thranduil whirled around and looked at the figure standing in the moonlight window. He couldn't believe his eyes as he stared at the man standing before him. Thranduil was greatly surprised to see a man in his realm at all, but what really astounded him was the man's dress.

He was all in black, dressed in a leather shirt with a huge collar fanning up in the back. He wore black tights and leather boots as well, and a thin, glittery black cape billowed about him. His hands were on his hips and a thin, mocking smile graced his lips. The whole affect was supposed to be imposing, Thranduil guessed, but the elf just found it amusing, especially since the man's long, white-blond hair was standing straight up on end, giving him the appearance of an enormous black-and-white dandelion.

"Now really," the man said silkily. "Must you be so rough with my minions?"

Thranduil looked down at the little creature in his hand, which was twitching oddly, its mouth opening and closing in a vain attempt to breathe. Thranduil dropped it and it lay gasping on the floor.

"Who are you?" he asked, looking back to the man.

"Who am I?" the man asked, as if surprised by the question. "Who am I? Why, I am the Goblin King, of course." He waited expectantly for a reaction.

Thranduil crossed his arms impatiently over his chest. "And I am Queen of the Dwarves," he sneered, unamused by what he perceived as a rather foolish joke. "Who are you?"

The man stared back at him.

"No, I really am the Goblin King."

Thranduil arched an eyebrow.

"The Goblin King."

"Yes."

"You are a man."

"Yes."

"You are not a goblin."

"No."

"But you are the King of the Goblins."

"You know," the man remarked, pulling off one of his black leather gloves one finger at a time. "I had heard that elves were supposed to be clever. Now, do you want your bloody son back or not?"

That caught Thranduil's attention.

"What have you done to him?" he asked, taking a menacing step forward. The Goblin King took a step back and raised his hand.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Thranduil roared. "He is gone! I know you and your little creatures took him, and all you can say is nothing?" The elven King was incensed. "Nothing?" he repeated. "Nothing, tra la la!"

The man frowned. "That's my line," he said peevishly.

Thranduil blinked. "What?"

"Never mind. What I meant to say was; I haven't done anything _to _him… yet." The Goblin King turned and gestured with one arm. "He's there, in my castle."

Suddenly they were no longer in Legolas's room in Thranduil's palace, but instead outside, on a hilltop underneath an odd, dusty red sky. Streaky purplish clouds stretched across the horizon and the ground was covered with dry, dead flowers. Utterly perplexed by this strange turn of events, the elven king could only stare where the black-clad arm pointed.

A twisting, turning labyrinth stretched out below them. In the center Thranduil's sharp eyes could see a city and a castle rising toward the sky.

"You dishonorable villain!" Thranduil sneered, rounding on the man. "Kidnapping a child!"

The man only shrugged, unperturbed.

"I only did what you wanted," he said.

"I want no such thing."

"Oh, but you did." The man smiled, delighted with himself. "I believe your words were; 'I wish the goblins would come take you away at this very moment.'"

Thranduil stared at him. "My words," he said slowly, "were '_Sometimes_ I _almost _wish the goblins would come take you away.'"

The man looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Yes, well, it isn't easy finding people who actually wish their children would be taken away by goblins. I have to take what I can get." He straightened, and a clock with thirteen hours on its face suddenly appeared to his left. "You have thirteen hours to get through the labyrinth and to the castle, or I shall turn your baby brother... er," he turned red, "_son _into a goblin and he will be one of us forever. Have fun!"

And with those words and a finger wave he faded away.

Thranduil stared at the spot for a long moment. Clearly he was dealing with a very powerful wizard, Goblin King or no, someone whose power rivaled even that of Mithrandir. Thranduil had no choice but to play the man's game, at least for now.

He pulled off his heavy green robes and left them lying on the grass. Beneath them he wore a mail shirt of mithril and plain dark green leggings, for he had been hunting spiders earlier that day and had not had time to change his clothes. His bare arms were adorned with silver and mithril bands and rings glittered on his fingers, making him an impressive figure as he strode down the hill. His light shoes made no impressions on the dusty ground. He wished he hadn't wasted his dagger on that little imp in Legolas's room, as he would probably need it before he was through. At least his headache seemed to be abating.

At the bottom of the hill lay the first wall of the labyrinth, and Thranduil walked along it for a time, looking for a door. There didn't seem to be one, all he could see was rough, blank stone. Odd-looking plants grew up the sides of the wall, and tiny little people fluttered about on delicate wings. Thranduil stopped to take a closer look at the fairies, and one small woman fluttered up to his face.

"Greetings," has said softly, wondering if the fairy could speak. It said nothing, just bit him on the nose.

"Ah!" Thranduil's hand came up of its own accord and swatted the fairy, which fell to the ground with a tiny shriek. The elven king glared down at it when a voice to his left startled him.

"What's your problem?"

Thranduil looked in the direction of the voice and spotted a small… person, sitting against the wall. His skin was so gnarled and wrinkled and weathered that Thranduil had mistaken him for another rock, but now he saw his mistake. A face looked up at him, a large mouth and a bulbous nose, two cloudy blue eyes set close together, and a stringy mass of grey-brown hair. Thranduil wondered what sort of creature it was, even as he raised his hand to dab at the bite on his nose.

"It bit me," he said, examining his fingers for blood.

"Well, what did you expect fairies to do?" the person asked.

"I'm sure I don't know." Thranduil wiped his fingers on his shirt. "And who might you be?"

The little man stood up, walking a few steps in an awkward, hobbling gait.

"I'm Hoggle," he said.

"A what?"

"Hoggle," he said again. "That's my name."

Thranduil arched an eyebrow. "Do you know how to get into this labyrinth, Master Hobble?"

"It's Hoggle!" the little person snapped. "And yes, I do."

Thranduil waited patiently. When no further information was forthcoming, he asked;

"Well, how does one go about it?"

Hobble pointed, and a door swung open with a great billowing of dust and smoke. Thranduil waved a hand before his face as he and Hoggle moved toward the opening.

"Rather dirty, isn't it?" he remarked. Stepping through the doorway, he found himself standing in a stone corridor. There was a wall before him, and the passageway stretched away on either side as far as he could see.

"Now, would you go left or right?"

"Right, I should think," Thranduil said, peering down through the gloom.

Hoggle looked surprised. "Why?" he asked.

Thranduil shrugged. "It looks as good a way as any."

Hoggle snorted. "You're weird," he proclaimed, turning and marching out of the labyrinth. The heavy doors swung shut behind him and the loud clang hurt Thranduil's ears.

"Well then," he said, and started to walk.

But there seemed to be no openings in the passage. It stretched on in front of him and behind him, seemingly endless, and Thranduil soon grew bored of walking down the dull stone passageway. He knew there must be openings somewhere, but he could not see them.

"I'm missing something," he murmured to himself, leaning against the stone wall.

"'Allo," a tiny voice said.

Thranduil looked down and saw a tiny blue worm wearing a red scarf and looking up at him.

"Did you just say 'allo?'" he asked, perplexed.

"Yes, I did, and you just ruined my line. Thanks a lot, pal."

Thranduil blinked.

"I am sorry," he said, unsure as to what he was actually talking to.

"S'all right," the worm answered. "No one ever really gets the joke. So, what'r you doin' in 'ere, anyway?"

"The goblin king has taken my son," Thranduil replied. "And I have been told that I must reach the castle at the center of the labyrinth within thirteen hours if I wish to retrieve him."

"Oh," the worm nodded knowingly. "That again."

"Again?" Thranduil asked, startled. "He has done this before?"

"Oh yeah. Used to be people runnin' all over this labyrinth. Never could find the entrances either."

"Where _are _the entrances?" Thranduil asked.

"Oh, there ain't any anymore. Used to be one right across there." The worm jerked its chin to indicate the wall opposite them. "But one day a couple 'a dwarves came and filled it in. Such a shame, no one ever comes by for tea anymore. Why don't you come inside and meet the missus?"

Thranduil looked down at the tiny figure and the equally tiny hole in which the worm lived.

"Thank you," he answered. "But I really don't think I would fit."

The worm considered this for a moment.

"Ah, I s'pose your right. Pity. Well, good luck finding your son." And with those words the worm disappeared into the crack in the wall.

Thranduil stared at the little hole for a long time, then straightened and looked at the wall across from him. It was about eight or nine feet high, and the spaces between the rocks would provide fair handholds. He reached out and placed his hand upon the wall and looked up sharply as a distant cry reached his ears.

"Ada!"

"I'm coming Legolas," he whispered, beginning to climb. To his right he noted a vine that formed an outline suspiciously akin to the face of the goblin king.

* * *

So? What did you think? Was it utter madness? Did you like it? Then review! Reviewers will be given many virtual cookies and maybe we can even give you your own little Legolas to carry around in your pocket ('cause he's cute). Then again, we should probably be dealing out Jareth's to you guys… J


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys! I'm very sorry this took so long to update, but I had to update another story before I could do this one, or the readers probably would have gutted me. But now I'm free to update this much faster, I promise! Hope you enjoy!

Scap: Thanks so much. We are very glad that you like little Legolas. He's a precious one :) Now go read and enjoy!

Moonjava: Thank you so much! Here's more! Hope you like!

merryduffer: Wow, I had never thought of it that way! Bowie versus Orlando – that really cracks me up. My money's on Bowie. But it always is ;) We love our little Legolas too, so we are very glad that you are happy with him. Ah, yes, our lovely Goblin King, may he always wear his tights proudly… Pocket Jareths and Legolas's for you! As long as you review, that is ;) And thank you so much for your wonderful compliments. Hope you like this chapter as well!

Thirteenth Dragon: Thank you very much! We're glad that you like our Thranduil and Jareth. Aren't they just precious? And we're, of course, glad that we can make you laugh:) Read and enjoy!

Araminta Doyle: Oh, so you're ready for little Legolas to be a problem for Jareth, are you? Well, your wish is our command – read on and be happy!

KS Claw: More, okay, here's more! More giggle fits, and Goblin Kings, and cross elves! Have fun, and thanks for reviewing!

Alora: Thank you so much! (And thank you for reviewing my other stories too, you're an angel.) I'm always glad, always when people like Labyrinth because it's underrated by the general public. But there's more to read now! So go now and have fun!

Here we go!

**Magic Dance in Middle Earth**

Chapter 2

Legolas did not know where he was. There were small green and brown creatures crawling and running and hopping all around him, and the young prince's Westron was not very good, so the words of the creatures, rather absurd and ridiculous anyway, sounded only like garbled nonsense to him. He was trying hard to be brave, but he was utterly lost and alone, and tears were trickling down his cheeks despite his best efforts.

"What's the matter?" one of them sneered at him, blowing a raspberry.

"Ada!" Legolas called, hoping his father would suddenly appear and whisk him away to safety. But he had no such luck. Instead, the frightening man who had taken him from his bed stood over him.

"Now now, don't cry," he said.

Legolas drew back from the strange figure. The man was dressed in a white shirt with large sleeves, grey leggings, and what looked like a black leather waistcoat. He had black gloves on as well, and his wild hair made him an alarming figure in the little elf's eyes.

"Im boe adar nin!" he whimpered.

Jareth, for that was the man's name, stared at the little elf who spoke a language the goblin king couldn't understand. He knew what to do for crying children, however, so he turned and grabbed the shirt of a nearby goblin as music started up from nowhere.

"_You remind me of the babe!"_ he declared gleefully.

_"What babe?"_ the goblin asked, confused. Honestly, these creatures were so _stupid_. There was only one child in the castle at that moment, and he was sitting in the room with them, for goodness sake!

_"The babe with the power."_

_"What power?"_

_"The power of Voodoo."_

"The what-now?" the goblin asked.

Jareth groaned and the music screeched to a halt.

"People, people," he said. "How many times do we have to go _through _this? I say 'the power of voodoo,' and you say 'who do?'"

A chorus of ohhhhs and grunts of affirmation followed his words, and Jareth started the music once more.

_"The babe with the power."_

_"What power?"_

_"The power of Voodoo."_

_"Who do?"_

_"You do."_

_"Do what?"_

_"Remind me of the babe."_

Jareth always thought himself very clever when he said that, but the goblins spoiled it by laughing. They _always _laughed too early.

"Quiet!" he snapped. "A goblin babe."

Silence.

"Well?"

The goblins laughed, and Jareth began to sing.

_"I saw my baby, crying hard as babe could cry._

_What could I do?_

_My baby's love had gone and left my baby blue._

_Nobody knew:_

_What kind of magic spell to use?"_

_"Slime and snails,"_ one goblin offered.

_"Or puppy dog's tails,"_ another said. At least the miserable creatures could rhyme.

_"Thunder or lightning."_Or not.

Jareth spun around and pointed at Legolas.

_"Then baby said -"_

Legolas had been trying very hard to figure out exactly what the people around him were saying. Jareth's voice was easier to understand than those of the goblins, and he realized that the man was referring to him as a baby.

"Not a baby!" he declared hotly.

Jareth just moved on to the chorus:

_"Dance magic, dance _

_Dance magic, dance_

_Put that baby spell on me_

_Jump magic, jump_

_Jump magic, jump_

_Put that magic jump on me_

_Slap that baby, make him free!"_

That, Legolas also understood, and his indignation won out over his fear.

"No!" he shouted and ran up to Jareth, kicking him hard in the shin and then running out the door.

The music stopped again as Jareth grasped his shin and hopped up and down on one leg.

"Well, go get the little brat," he snarled, and the goblins raced to do his bidding.

* * *

Meanwhile, Thranduil had come up with the clever idea of marking the stone beneath his feet with a rock he had found so that he could retrace his steps if he should come up against a dead end. It was a good plan, considering he had already encountered several, and as he looked up from his marking he saw another wall before him. 

_Perhaps I should just climb over it_, he mused. Suddenly a noise caught his attention. It was soft sound of rock scraping against rock, followed by the murmuring of tiny voices.

"Pasta Vazoo? Is a-writing on the fraggin' walk-walk! Your mother is a fraggin' aardvark!"

Thranduil spun and snatched up the flagstone that the little people were in the process of turning. He lifted it and the little people into the air.

"What did you say about my mother?"

One of the little people made a noise like "eep," and then they were silent, clinging for dear life to the stone square.

"Ah, ah nuthin'" one of them said at last. "Didn't say nothin.'"

"Put us down, mister?" another asked timidly.

"Tell me which way to go," Thranduil commanded.

The little people put their heads together as best they were able without letting go of their handholds.

"That way!" they said with one voice.

Thranduil turned and looked behind him, and where the dead end had been before there now stood two doors, decorated by some odd-looking two-headed creatures that somewhat resembling playing cards.

"Pick-a a door-door," one of the little people said helpfully.

Thranduil put them down and they scurried back into their little hole screaming; "hit you avec un sac-a-dos!" as he approached the doors, regarding the two-headed figures suspiciously.

"Try one of these doors," one head said.

"One of them leads to the castle," another added. "The other leads to…"

"Bu-bu-bu-bum!" a third head said helpfully.

"Certain Death!"

All four heads made ooohing noises.

"Which door leads to the castle?" Thranduil asked the head that had first addressed him, located on the bottom of the left-hand door.

"We can't tell you."

"Alright then," Thranduil chose at random and stepped through the right-hand door.

"Wait! How do you know that door doesn't lead to (bu-bu-bu-bum!) Certain Death?" a voice shouted at him.

"Nothing is ever certain," he called back, and at that moment the ground opened up beneath him and he had a brief moment to wonder if certain death lay at the bottom of a hole before he fell.

Hands stuck out of the wall on all sides, and after a while they grasped his arms and legs and stopped his decent.

"What in the name of Arda…?" Thranduil began.

Some of the hands came together to form the shape of a face, and the mouth moved as a voice said;

"We want to help you."

Another face formed to his right.

"We're helping hands."

"Which way would you like to go?" another hand-face asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Up or down?"

"Come, come, we haven't got all day."

Thranduil didn't much relish the thought of falling further beneath the earth into a dark hole.

"I would much prefer to go up, thank you," he said.

There was a flurry of motion as the hands formed dozens of faces, all talking excitedly to each other.

"Up?"

"He chose up?"

"No one ever chooses up!"

"What do we do?"

"Send him down."

And then the hands released him and Thranduil fell once again, landing at last in a dark hole. A gate clanged shut loudly over the opening he had come through. This didn't look good.

Thranduil sat alone in that hole for about an hour. He examined all sides of it with both his eyes and his fingers, but he could find no way in or out except the way he had come. He peered up into the dark, vertical tunnel and wondered how difficult it would be to remove the grate and climb back up it. With no other options he began to loosen the bolts with a rock, singing softly to himself to sooth his rattled nerves and to keep the darkness of his earthen prison at bay.

_"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,_

_silivren penna miriel_

_o menel aglar elenath."_

_Na-chaered palan-diriel_

_o galadhremmin ennorath,_

_Fanuilos, le linnathon_

_nef aear, si nef aearon."_

His voice was sweet and low and rich, filling the small earthen hole with sound that echoed up the tunnel above his head and faintly reached the ears of some of the small creatures passing by. All who heard the sound stopped to listen, entranced by the beautiful voice and the words they could not understand. Only one pair of ears that heard the elf's song was not enamored.

"Oh, la di da," Jareth said. He pillowed his cheek on one gloved hand as he gazed into the crystal palmed in the other, watching Thranduil move about the hole. "I do hope he gives up once the dwarf leads him back to the beginning. I'm not sure I can take much more of this."

"I don't think he will ever give up, Sire," a thin goblin at his side said.

"Oh?" Jareth asked wearily. "And what makes you think that?"

"He's too much like you, sire."

A sweep of Jareth's bejeweled riding crop sent the goblin crashing to the floor.

The other goblins stared at him.

"Well? Laugh!" he commanded.

The metal cover gone at last, Thranduil put his fingers on the inside of the tunnel and was about to lift himself up when he heard the sound of footsteps.

"Who is there?" he asked, turning and dropping into a crouch, ready if an attack should come. His elven eyes made out a small, hunched shape in the darkness.

"Me."

Thranduil recognized the voice even before a match flared to life and a lantern was set alight. Two close set, cloudy blue eyes looked up at him.

"Hello, Hobbit," he said.

"It's _Hoggle_. Say it with me. Hog-gle."

"My apologies," Thranduil said absently, glancing around the walls again now that they were illuminated.

"Oh, you're looking around," Hoggle said.

"You're a very observant man, er… ah…" Thranduil turned to look at him. "Hoggle, what sort of creature _are _you?"

"I'm a dwarf," Hoggle replied, looking mildly insulted.

"But you haven't a beard."

"So, what's that got to do with it?"

"Well, all dwarves have beards."

"No they don't. And besides, I don't like beards. They itch."

Thranduil stared at him for a moment, then decided he had more important things to worry about and went back to his inspection of the hole. Hoggle continued his exposition as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I suppose you've noticed there ain't no doors. Only the hole. This is an oubliette. Labyrinth's full of them."

"Fascinating." Thranduil was peering up the tunnel again, only half listening to Hoggle's words.

"Bet you don't know what an oubliette is," Hoggle said smugly.

Thranduil, having lived all his life in Middle Earth, had never had the opportunity to study French, and so, of course, did not.

"It's a place where you put people to forget about them," Hoggle said, grinning from ear to ear.

Thranduil grunted. "How did you get in here?" he asked.

"What?"

"Well, you were not in here when I arrived and you didn't come tumbling down the tunnel, so I can only assume there is another entrance. How did you get in?"

Hoggle shifted uneasily under Thranduil's gaze, scuffed his toe in the dirt, and looked everywhere but into the elven lord's face.

"I, ah, well… I ain't telling."

"Why not?"

"I don't like you."

Thranduil considered. He could threaten Hoggle into submission, which, if he was any sort of judge of character at all, would be fairly easy, or he could appeal to the small creature's greed. He had noticed the shiny jewels and baubles hanging from Hoggle's waist, and assumed that bribery would work just as well as intimidation. And it would be kinder.

He slipped a ring off his finger.

"If you show me the way out of this hole," he said. "I will give you this."

Hoggle's eyes widened.

"Do we have a deal?" Thranduil asked.

Hoggle wavered, harrumphed, and then put out his hand.

"Deal," he said. Thranduil dropped the ring into his hand. "What is this made of, anyway?" he asked suspiciously.

"Mithril."

"Meee –thrill," Hoggle repeated. "Cor."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind." Hoggle picked up a piece of wood off the floor and propped it up against the wall. "Here we go."

With a flourishing "dad um!" he swung the piece of wood to the side. Where only earth had been a moment before there was now an open space. Steam billowed out of the doorway as it opened and a woman screamed.

"Ooops! Sorry ma'am," Hoggle said quickly, slamming the door shut again. He gave Thranduil an apologetic look, his face red with embarrassment. "Well, can't be right all the time."

He swung the door the opposite way, revealing a dark doorway.

"Ah ha, this is it," he said. "Come on then."

Thranduil followed the little dwarf through the doorway (it was a rather tight squeeze for the elf) and found himself in a large and spacious tunnel. There were faces carved into the pillars of rock that supported the ceiling, and they moved and spoke as the elf and dwarf passed.

"Don't go on!"

"Go back while you still can!"

"This is not the way…"

"Take heed, and go no further!"

"BEWARE! BEWARE!"

"Soon it will be too late…"

"Ignore them," Hoggle advised. "They're just false alarms. You get them a lot in the labyrinth, especially when you're on the right track."

"Oh, no, you're not!" a rock to their left shouted.

"Oh, shut up!" Hoggle hollered back.

"Sorry, just doing my job," the rock muttered, chagrined.

"Beware," said another, a little further on. "For the…"

"Just forget it," Hoggle said exasperatedly.

The rock snapped its jaw shut with a snap.

"I should get some of those," Thranduil said, craning his neck to look back at the false alarms as Hoggle grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into another passage.

A small crystal ball rolled by their feet as they stepped into the new tunnel. They watched as it moved a little way down the tunnel until it came to the feet of a stooped beggar man, where it hopped up into the tin cup in the man's hands.

Thranduil's elven senses told him there was more to this beggar than met the eye, but before he could do anything the figure suddenly stood, and the costume fell away to reveal the goblin king.

"Well, well, what have we here?" he asked.

"Uh, nothing," Hoggle said.

"Nothing?" the man snapped back. "Nothing! Noth… oh damn." He gave Thranduil an angry glare. "That really was my best line."

Thranduil smiled thinly.

"So, my elven friend, I have been trying to get Hoggle to actually follow my orders for _years_. How is it that you have him helping you so early in your acquaintance?" His eyes flitted to the mithril ring, which Hoggle had strung about his neck with a leather cord.

Thranduil shrugged. "More flies with honey."

"Helping! Oh, _no_, Your Majesty," Hoggle interrupted. "I wasn't helping him. I was going to lead him back to the beginning! Just like you told me!"

"That's good, Higgle," Jareth began.

"It's Haggle," Thranduil offered helpfully.

"Hoggle!"

"Yes. Because if I thought for one second that you were betraying me, I'd be forced to suspend you, head first, into the Bog of Eternal Stench."

"No, Your Majesty! Not the Eternal Stench!"

"Oh yes, Hoggle!"

Thranduil clapped.

"What?" Jareth asked

"You remembered his name. Well done indeed, my lord," the elf said sarcastically.

Jareth glared. "And how are you enjoying my labyrinth, _my lord_?" he queried.

"It's not that bad," Thranduil answered. The other two stared at him. "Well, I'm not saying I'd like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely."

"Well," Jareth said. "_You_ may be enjoying this, but frankly _I_ find the whole affair rather boring, so why don't I speed things along?"

The clock marking the time Thranduil had left to complete the labyrinth appeared again and Jareth twirled his finger, causing the hands to advance several hours. Thranduil's face remained impassive, but his eyes shone with rage.

"You have no honor," he said coldly.

"You keep saying that," Jareth remarked. "I wonder what your basis for comparison is." He started to walk away, then suddenly turned back to face the elf.

"Oh, and by the way, you sing like a choir boy."

Thranduil bristled at the unspoken implication. "I have three children," he said.

"Must have been before they went _snip._"

This was too much for elven pride to take. Thranduil launched himself at his foe, his right fist connecting solidly with the side of Jareth's face as the elven king knocked the goblin king to the ground.

Jareth was no sluggard, but he barely had time to register surprise before he found himself on his back upon the ground. Thranduil sat upon his chest, one arm across Jareth's windpipe, pressing just hard enough to make breathing uncomfortable without cutting off the goblin king's air supply completely. Hoggle cowered against the far wall, forgotten by both kings for the moment.

"I could kill you now," Thranduil threatened his captive.

"Then… you'd never… get… your son back," Jareth gasped.

"Nay," Thranduil pressed a little harder. "I believe killing you would remove the greatest obstacle in my path."

"I… don't… think so!" Jareth snapped his fingers and his riding crop appeared in his hand. He swung it at Thranduil's head, the crystal on its top striking the elf's temple. Thranduil fell to the side, rolled, and came smoothly to his feet, ignoring the way the world wobbled slightly. He stood in a fighter's stance, knees bent and on his toes, waiting for the attack.

But it never came. Jareth scrambled upright, but instead of continuing the fight, he changed the riding crop into a mirror and gazed into it. The beginnings of a deep bruise were already forming on his left cheek.

"You mangled my face!" he exclaimed. "You insolent, pointy eared, flat haired…" he groped for an appropriate designation. "aardvark!"

Thranduil sneered at him. "Amin feuya ten' lle, ulunn."

"What was that about my mother?" Jareth's mirror transformed into one of his crystals. "So you like my labyrinth, do you? You think it's pretty? Well, let's see how you deal with this slice!"

Thranduil frowned. "Slice of what?"

"Pie!"

Jareth hurled the crystal toward the far end of the tunnel. There was a flash of light as the goblin king disappeared and a large metal object appeared where the crystal had fallen.

"Oh no!" Hoggle hollered. "The cleaners!"

* * *

Translations: 

Ada – Dad

Im boe adar nin. – I want (lit. need) my father.

Amin feuya ten' lle, ulunn. – You disgust me, monster. (lit. deformed hideous creature)

* * *

Hope that was to your liking! More PocketJareths and now Pocket Legolas's are available to good reviewers! 


End file.
